Like Marbles on Glass
by Alix Cohen
Summary: The Master goes looking for the Doctor, and loses (or perhaps regains?) control. Three/Delgado!Master fluff, if such is possible.


**A/N:** I don't usually write to music, but this piece has a definite soundtrack: "Exile Vilify" from the _Portal_ games. In fact, I think that's the theme song for this pairing. Go find it on Youtube and listen while you read.

* * *

The Master was having an emotional response. It would not be unusual, except that he did not know what it was a response _to_. Nor was it the first time: of late he had felt it often, that odd lightness of the gut and heaviness of the head, and the swelling of his heartsbeat into a drumming that could rip him in two if he did not master it, wrestle the noise into submission so that it was no more than his hearts, and he was himself again. He did not, he realized, have a name for this emotion; his strength lay not in words, like the Doctor's, but in action, in—

Yes. Yes, there was something he could do about that nameless emotion that refused to leave him alone. He could seek out the Doctor, bring him under his control once and for all. The man had tormented him long enough, with his smug self-righteousness and calm refusal to submit, or so the Master had long told himself. _Thwarted at every turn,_ he thought now, _but no longer_. His hearts pounded with the prospect of action, and he smiled.

* * *

As his TARDIS landed, the Master checked his scanner. He was in the Doctor's laboratory, at a time when the Doctor himself would be the only one awake. His stomach churned as if an animal were trapped inside it, and he finally put a name to that annoying emotion: anxiety.

The Master was nervous.

He closed his eyes and meditated briefly, purging himself of this newly-discovered weakness. Then he looked at the scanner, saw the Doctor hard at work on some delicate project, and found himself closing his eyes once more, to make sure his nerves were steady. _All such beautiful things will be mine_.

No time now to stand thinking. The Doctor will have heard him land. This will be easy, he told himself, and strode out to master the Doctor.

The Master had always been good at lying, especially to himself.

* * *

The Doctor didn't turn around, or acknowledge the Master's presence. Head bent over his microcircuitry, he seemed thoroughly absorbed and at peace. It was almost a shame he had to break that concentration. The Master cleared his throat, and at last the Doctor responded.

"Who's there?" he snapped, then turned around and saw the Master. "Oh."

"Good evening, Doctor," the Master said, stepping out of the shadow of his TARDIS, which had taken the shape of a computer to blend in with the laboratory. The Doctor's TARDIS, still a police box, sat in the opposite corner.

"What do you want?" the Doctor demanded, rising from his workbench in a defensive stance.

"Only to talk, Doctor," the Master said as he approached. "You see, it seems that my plans to rule the universe are missing one crucial component, without which I can never succeed."

"And you think I have that component," challenged the Doctor, watching the Master warily.

"On the contrary," said the Master, now with barely four feet between them. And the Doctor hadn't called for help. That would work to his advantage. "Quite the contrary, Doctor. You see, you—" he closed the gap and laid long fingers on the Doctor's cheek—"_are_ that component." The Master had not felt so bold in centuries; he had best act before he lost his nerve. His hearts drummed in his chest.

"How do you—" the Doctor began, before the Master's lips met his and cut him off.

The kiss lasted seconds, if that; but in that time the Master became aware of a deep silence in his head. The drumming had stopped, and the lack of sound was not unpleasant.

The Doctor pulled away, in the little space he had in front of the workbench. "I don't understand," he said softly.

"You see, Doctor," said the Master, gently tracing the Doctor's jawline and resting his hand on the Doctor's shoulder, "how much more pleasant life could be if we were on the same side. How much _good_ we could do for the universe." _And not just for the universe,_ he thought but dared not say. He was becoming nervous again.

"Certainly we could do good," the Doctor replied cautiously, "as long as that side wasn't your side."

"Do you know what your problem is, Doctor?" the Master asked. "You talk too much, and understand too little." The Doctor opened his mouth, perhaps to argue, and the Master kissed him again. When the Doctor did not resist, laid his hand on the Doctor's face again, in the traditional pose for psychic contact.

They lingered there, lost in each other, for a length of time that could not be measured, until in their own minds they saw themselves.

_So. You understand now._

_Yes. I do not condone...but I understand._

"Doctor?" A girl's voice shattered the sweet silence. The Master pulled away hurriedly, turned around and saw Jo Grant, in a dressing gown and slippers. He turned back and tried to hide his face. "Doctor, I couldn't sleep. I had the feeling that something terrible was going to happen. And what's the Mas—"

"Everything's all right," the Doctor said, cutting her off. "Go back to bed." He smiled, trying to reassure her, but she remained.

The Master decided to help get rid of her. He looked her in the eye; he'd controlled her once and could do so again. "Nothing is wrong, Miss Grant," he said. "You've had a nightmare. Go back to sleep."

Jo's eyes glazed over. "Just a nightmare," she echoed, then blinked and was herself again. "Well, good night, Doctor!" she called as she left the room.

"Yes, good night, Jo," the Doctor said, then when she was out of earshot: "Was that really necessary?"

"It seemed expedient to make her leave," the Master said, adjusting his shirt cuffs.

"Yes, well, expedient it may have been, but you mustn't hypnotize Miss Grant; now she's bound to go wake up Captain Yates and tell him she's had a nightmare about the Master. You'd better get out of here before that happens."

"As you wish, Doctor," the Master sighed, turning around. Halfway to his TARDIS, he paused. "You'll see me again, Doctor."

"I have no doubt of that...Master," the Doctor replied, smiling.

The Master's hearts were lighter as he left, the drumming nearly inaudible. Under his control. And though the Doctor wasn't, he still somehow felt better.


End file.
